For years, my wife and I had dreamed of celebrating our 40th wedding anniversary with a romantic trip, just the two of us. We had planned every detail—a quiet, charming inn on the coast of Maine, where we could sip coffee on the deck and watch the sunrise over the ocean. It was supposed to be a trip to relive our early days, to reflect on four decades of love and partnership. But then, our daughter Jane found out, and everything changed.
It was during a family dinner when our oldest son, Frank, accidentally mentioned our upcoming trip. Jane’s eyes widened in shock.
“Mom, Dad, I can’t believe you’re going on this amazing vacation without us!” she exclaimed. “How could you leave us out? The kids would be heartbroken if they knew you didn’t want them there.”
I frowned but said nothing, watching the familiar way Jane worked on her mother’s emotions. My wife, Maggie, hesitated, torn between excitement for our trip and guilt over Jane’s words. Jane had always been good at playing the guilt card, and I could see Maggie wavering.
Sensing her struggle, I decided to step in.
“Jane, sweetheart, it’s not that we don’t want you there,” I said calmly. “This is a special trip for just your mom and me.”
Jane let out a dramatic sigh, clasping her hands over her heart like she was in a soap opera. “Exactly! That’s why it’s so important for my whole family to be part of it! This could be a once-in-a-lifetime chance for us to bond! You always say family is everything, right, Dad?”
I took a deep breath, determined to stand firm. “Jane, this trip is for your mom and me. It’s our anniversary.”
Jane groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Dad, come on! We hardly ever do things like this as a family. And now you’re ditching us? How is that fair?”
Over the next few weeks, Jane ramped up her efforts. She called my wife almost daily, using different angles each time.
“Mom, you’ll regret not including us when the kids are older and too busy to spend time with you.”
Or, “Dad, don’t you want the kids to remember you as fun, involved grandparents?”
Eventually, Maggie started to waver. “Maybe we should consider it,” she said one evening. “Jane has a point. Family is important.”
“Family IS important,” I agreed. “But so are we. This was supposed to be our time.”
But I could see the doubt in her eyes. To keep the peace, I reluctantly agreed to change our plans. We swapped our cozy inn for a family-friendly resort in Florida, covering the resort costs and the grandkids’ tickets. I convinced myself that it might still be fun, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t what I wanted.
That’s when Jane’s entitlement grew.
“Oh, don’t forget to pack plenty of snacks for the kids,” she mentioned casually over the phone one afternoon. “You know how picky they are, and I don’t trust resort food.”
Maggie glanced at her packing list. “We can manage snacks, but—”
“And you and Dad will take them to the pool, right?” Jane cut in. “Nick and I could really use some uninterrupted relaxation. It’s not like you guys are doing much else.”
I felt frustration bubbling inside me, but I bit my tongue. Then came the final straw. Two nights before the trip, Jane called with another demand.
“Oh, one more thing,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “Can you guys handle bedtime for the kids at least three or four nights? Nick and I want to check out the nightlife. You’re the pros, after all, having raised four kids. And it’s your anniversary trip too, so… bonding time, right?”
That’s when it hit me. This wasn’t going to be a family trip. It was going to be Jane and Nick’s vacation while we played full-time babysitters. Our romantic getaway was slipping away.
The next day, I called Jane. “Jane, we need to talk,” I said firmly. “Your mom and I had a vision for this trip, and it didn’t include us acting as babysitters for you and Nick.”
She let out an exaggerated groan. “Dad, you’re being dramatic. It’s not like we’re asking you to take care of them the whole time. You’ll get to have your fun too.”
“Jane, you’re asking us to do bedtime, pool time, and probably everything in between,” I shot back. “We’re not your personal vacation staff!”
Her tone sharpened. “Do you even want to spend time with your grandkids?”
“It’s not that,” I said, trying to stay calm. “But this trip was supposed to be about your mom and me, not you or the kids. We’ve been looking forward to it for years!”
“Fine!” she snapped. “Cancel it, then! We’ll just sit at home while you and Mom gallivant around.”
I didn’t argue. I simply made up my mind.
After the call, I quietly switched our tickets back to Maine. The night before our flight, I told Maggie what I had done. She stared at me in shock.
“You did what?!”
“We’re going to Maine,” I said firmly. “Just the two of us. Like we planned.”
“But Jane—”
“Jane will figure it out,” I said. “We deserve this trip. If we don’t take it now, we never will.”
The next morning, as we boarded our flight, Maggie squeezed my hand. “You know, I think you were right,” she said softly. “I’m just worried about Jane’s reaction.”
“She’ll be fine,” I assured her, though I wasn’t entirely sure myself.
When we landed, I called Jane.
“Jane, I need to let you know we decided to stick to our original plans. We’re not going to the family resort.”
There was silence. Then Jane exploded. “WHAT?! You left us? How could you do this? We were COUNTING on you!”
“For what, Jane?” I asked calmly.
“For HELP, obviously!” she snapped. “This trip was only doable because of you and Mom!”
Before I could respond, Nick grabbed the phone. “This is unbelievable!” he shouted. “Do you know what you’ve done?! You’ve ruined our vacation! We can’t afford babysitters on such short notice. You’re so selfish—on your anniversary, of all times!”
I simply hung up.
When we returned, Jane wasn’t speaking to us. Nick posted a passive-aggressive comment on social media about “people who abandon family.” Maggie felt guilty, but I didn’t.
Our week in Maine had been everything we dreamed of—quiet, romantic, and restorative. Over a candlelit dinner on our last night, Maggie smiled and took my hand. “I’m so glad we came here.”
“So am I,” I said.
Later, Frank told us that Jane and her family still went to the resort, but they didn’t enjoy it much. The couple was exhausted from handling the kids alone. However, our grandkids had the time of their lives.
Jane might expect an apology, but I stand by my decision. Sometimes, the best way to teach someone a lesson is to show them that your time and your boundaries are just as valuable as theirs.
